Riding In Spacecraft With Mothers—In—Law
by TeaOli
Summary: Amanda explains why the birds and the bees aren't Vulcans. Uhura is all ears. What you didn't see in Chapter 10 of 1C13:11. Chapter 8 posted. Now complete.
1. An Unexpected Invitation

She only babbled when she was embarrassed. "You don't really have to do this, Ko-mekh. Spock only made me call because he's afraid that I can't control my teeth when I get excited. But, it was an accident, Ko-mekh."

At first, Amanda Grayson watched the young woman's steadily darkening blush with amusement she only just barely held in check. Nyota Uhura didn't go into detail, but having known the girl for most her life made it easy enough to discern her topic of interest. When the other reason for her call became clear, however, a sudden memory of herself as the young human bride of a Vulcan chased away all traces of levity.

"Ko-mekh?" Nyota's voice turned shrill. "Is everything okay?"

"Nyota," she said, feeling her face stiffen with worry, "I think you'd better come to Vulcan right away."

"Um, what? Honestly! It was an accident and Spock was barely even hurt. The bruise is almost totally healed!"

"Oh, Ennie," the older woman said, her expression once again motherly. "I know you have plans… "

"But Ko-mekh," Nyota began, "I can't miss this conference. We've been preparing for months! I can't let Pavel down. Plus, I'm not sure Spock would forgive me if I left the two of them alone for the next five days."

Nodding, Amanda considered. The young Russian cadet _could_ be difficult to take sometimes, but never anything so annoying as to challenge her son's carefully controlled implacability. Still…

"I understand," she said. "Maybe next week?" She didn't really want to interrupt Nyota's long awaited 'girl time,' and young Sarah Grayson had been looking forward to their trip all year, but some bonds were more important than others. Hopefully, her niece would have just as much fun — maybe even more — spending time with just Jane Faransdóttir and Upenda. "I think the girls will understand."

A myriad of emotions crossed Nyota's face as she considered the request. Every one of them sent a stab of guilt through Amanda. The job called 'motherhood' included several less-than-comfortable tasks; protecting her son's reproductive future was just one of many.

Saving his life was everything.

* * *

**A/N:** What you didn't see in Chapter 10 of 1C13:11.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, any Star Trek character or concepts and I _still_ don't profit from writing about them.


	2. An Uncomfortable Conversation

The moment they got back to her uncle's apartment, she dumped the clothes she'd taken to the conference into the refresher and started refilling her duffel with the things she'd pre-selected for the trip to Vulcan. There was plenty of time before she needed to leave for the shuttle terminal, but eighteen years of being Nyota Uhura had taught her to always expect the worst and plan accordingly.

Spock apparently had nothing better to do than watch her.

"You could be packing, too, you know," she pointed out, hoping he'd heed the hint and stop staring. "They said your quarters could be ready any day now."

He replied, "Your memory is impeccable, my love," but didn't move from where he slouched against the wall adjacent to the room's only window.

"Without you watching at me, I might actually get to the terminal on time."

"If you take a later shuttle," he remarked, at last pushing away from the wall and moving towards her, "we would perhaps have time to engage in another acclimation session."

"You've got to be joking." Snorting, she turned to the small stack of trousers lying on the bed and frowned. She crossed over to her bureau to grab a couple more, quipping, with a dark look tossed over her shoulder, "I wouldn't be going on this trip if you weren't so afraid to be around me when you're naked."

"Vulcans do not joke," he said as she added the new pants to the pile and placed the lot in her luggage. "And I am _not_ afraid of you, k'diwa."

Near-total recall notwithstanding, obviously, he was already forgetting whatever advice Baba had given him on her birthday.

"This was _your_ idea," she reminded him. Turning her back on his much-too-clearly-sulky face, Uhura stuffed a few tunics on top of the trousers.

"This was _Mother's_ idea," he stubbornly corrected. "I merely wished for her to explain… it… to you so that you might be better equipped to make an informed choice. I fail to understand why it is necessary for you to be in her physical presence in order to achieve that aim."

"Neither do I, but I said I would go, so I'm going." She tossed a few robes into the case and dragged the zip-seal closed. "Even if I wasn't, I wouldn't be staying here."

She swung the duffel up onto her shoulder and started towards the bedroom door. Less than a meter away from the bed, she was suddenly suffused with a sense of Vulcan heat at her back.

"Nyota," her sa-kugalsu murmured into her ear, "you neglected to pack any undergarments."

.

.

Amanda spent several moments reveling in her mate's residence a corner of her consciousness and in the benefits of a good night's sleep before opening her eyes. The odds that she'd wake up feeling so lavishly loved and so wonderfully well-rested any time in very near future were pretty damned low.

As if on clue, a thought which, had it been expressed in words would have gone something like, "Oh good; you're awake," flitted through her mind. Just before the bond-link compressed and narrowed until Sarek was little more than a thought she couldn't quite grasp.

She opened her eyes and bolted upright.

"Surak's sack, Sarek! Stop sulking." Her husband, his handsome face lit by the rising sun, elevated an elegant eyebrow at her exclamation, but stayed silent as she forged on with, "I won't even be gone long. Nyota has only nine Standard days before her new term begins. Sometimes you're away for _weeks_ at a time and did you ever hear me complain?"

"Quite often, yes," he said.

Marriage to a human woman had long since taught him when to answer honestly and when to keep his mouth shut, so she didn't even need the buzzing sensation that hummed over their bond to tell her he was up to something.

"That, however, is besides the point," he added. "Had you heeded my counsel nine point one six five standard Terran years ago, this journey would be unnecessary."

It was unlike Sarek to repeat himself — hell, it was un_Vulcan_like, period — but this was the fourth or fifth time he mentioned his long-ago attempt at intervention in the week since she'd invited Nyota to visit.

"You _know_ the first farm visit was T'Pau's doing," she reminded him.

He merely nodded his concession and stepped closer to the bed.

Then he let his robe slide from his broad shoulders to puddle on floor, giving her a good gander at exactly what was... up.

She steeled herself against its allure. "We can't have make-up sex until we actually _make_ _up_, my adun." For some reason, she found that she was making room for him on the bed, anyway.

.

.

Her left leg jumped up down, her foot beating out a staccato tattoo as the half-empty shuttle hurtled through space.

As tempting as the idea of staying with Spock had been, she'd made a promise and wasn't willing to let Ko-mekh down. Even if that meant willingly participating in what was sure to be the most embarrassing discussion of her life so far. Besides, she doubted her half-Vulcan was going to let her anywhere _near_ his newly-healed lok before he believed she'd learned a thing or two about how to handle it.

Lost in thought, vacillating between cursing Spock and cringing at her upcoming interview, she didn't even notice the shuttle attendant had paused by her seat until he spoke.

"First visit to Vulcan?" He wore an indulgent, lazy smile on his handsome face. His eyelids were lowered just enough to emphasize, rather than dull, bright green eyes.

She knew that look. Plus, the figure on his forehead marked him as a Risian. She reminded herself that she didn't hate _all _Risians.

"Uh, no," Uhura told him, forcing a smile. "I've been there before. A few times. You probably see lots of people from Diplomatic Corps families."

"I do, actually," he said, squatting down to stare soulfully into her eyes. "But they're usually icebergs who look like they never learned how to have a good time."

Uhura laughed silkily in spite of knowing his description was parsecs away from her Wakufunzi cousins' true personalities, and despite knowing she was about to burst the guy's bubble.

"That about sums up most Dip. Kids," she conceded. "But put them in a room where the public — and their parents — aren't watching…" She let the sentence trail off enticingly.

"Sounds like something I'd like to know more about," he quipped, taking the bait. She wondered if he if he had a human ancestor named Kirk. "Maybe you could show me what a Dip. Kid is really like."

"Not this time," she said. "I'm on my way to see my future mother-in-law. This is kinda of a… last minute summoning."

His face remained friendly, but his lids lifted and the lazy smile morphed into something decidedly more correct.

"Oh," he said, straightening. "Well, I hope it's not about anything serious."

"Not really," she replied absently. "I think she just wants to make sure I don't end up being the death of her son."

.

.

Amanda stood in the shuttle terminal, one of only a double handful of offworlders in a sea of Vulcans. Long practice kept her from fiddling with the hood of her cloak while she waited. Had any of them cared to look, her nervousness might have been apparent to the scores of her husband's people who moved quietly about their business, but Vulcans tended to be too polite — or uptight — to stare openly at strangers.

She was pretty sure none of the three other humans in the utilitarian arrivals hall could possibly guess how her stomach cramped and her palms sweated. That was a good thing; this visit was going to be odd enough without her worrying about what other people thought of her demeanor.

Even as the thought was formed, her mind drifted back an hour to the "farewell" she'd been sure would make her late. Of course, her husband had known exactly what he was doing and exactly how long it would take.

.

_She smiled in spite of the impatience she told herself she should be feeling. Without conscious thought, she slid a hand up to caress his muscled chest as he kneeled at the edge of the bed. They gasped in unison when he reopened the link just enough to mingle his desire with hers._

_He brushed the straps of her nightgown from her shoulders, exposing full, rose-tipped breasts._

_With a throaty purr of anticipation she leaned back on her hands, arching her back. _

_Their movements were automatic, a fluid choreography improvised over decades of performing together. There were few surprises, but she knew her naked breasts were a sight he never resisted easily._

"_Taste," she ordered, and he immediately complied, sucking a nipple into his mouth._

_Through the open link told he could feel his ministrations fanning the flames of her desire, and his lok swelled in concert with her need until the hot thick organ pressed against her knee._

_She giggled — a choked sound, halfway between a chuckle and a moan — at the inconvenience of their current position. _

_He lifted his head and regarded her critically._

"_That is easily corrected, adun'a," he said aloud, right before reached out to grasp both of her ankles in one hand then yank her flat on her back._

_She smiled again as her gaze took in his twitching lok._

"_If you manage to accomplish our goal from there," she teased, indicating the place where he still knelt above her, "that would be a pretty impressive feat. One I might have to tell—"_

_Instantly, he was lying beside her, his fingers burning a trail across the skin of her abdomen then ghosting lower._

_He hooked a finger under the top of her gown and tugged it off completely. _

_His skin scorched hers as he covered her. Her body urged his to appease the exhilarating want that suddenly suffused her senses._

_Nails digging into his shoulders, she crossed her ankles behind his pla'kruslar — still firm and appealingly rounded in spite of his advanced years (and multiple assertions that he habitually had a stick up it) — and rotated her hips to guide him in. The link snapped open completely and suddenly he was inside her mind again, as well as the warmest part of her._

_Their perceptions merged and she felt the relative cool of her keshtan-ur clutching at his lok._

_The familiar sensation of the pleasure he took from her body mingled with the pleasure she took from him urged her higher._

_The heat of his lok against her ko-lok as he — agonizingly slowly — dragged himself out left her light-headed. He thrust back in, hard, fast and deep. The rasp of his tongue against her sensitive nipples was like flint striking steel._

_With each press of his hips, every stroke, a glorious pressure built with them both, taking on form and color as they met again and again and again until she was too lost to keep count._

_Lungs snatching at oxygen in the thin Vulcan air, she panted as even _his _breathing became labored from his exertions. She buried her nails into his feverish skin as the wave crested and then…_

_They came apart, shattering, as one, into an infinite number of pieces._

.

Heads — human, Vulcan and other — turned when Nyota emerged from her gate. The shuttle from Earth only had five other passengers, but the young African seemed to catch everyone's attention.

_Probably just a mother's pride talking,_ Amanda admonished herself, and sure enough, the other people milling around the terminal paid no further notice to the slender woman wearing lightweight dun-colored robes with a scarf in shades of brown and red and orange covering her head and flowing across the tops of her shoulders.

Suddenly, Amanda was reminded of M'Umbha struggling to help her three-year-old writhing bundle of anticipation into an orange and brown sun suit.

"Hurry, Mama!" the tiny girl had commanded. "Spocky wants to play to play with me!"

Amanda shoved the memory aside. She didn't even want to _think_ about the ways her son might play with an all-grown-up Nyota. The next few days were going to be tough enough to get through.

She focused on the sedate-looking young woman gracefully making her way closer. Telling her future daughter-in-law exactly where they'd be spending these difficult days was probably going to be a lot harder than she'd counted on.

.

.

"Don't worry, En," Ko'mekh said, turning from the hover control to offer what Uhura supposed was intended to be a reassuring smile. "Only females are allowed in this terminal, and they're all terribly discreet.'

Uhura tried not to look too mistrustful as the hover floated past the security gate. If she hadn't just gone through it, she might never have realized it was there, and certainly wouldn't have guessed that it was part of the shuttle port.

"The Temple of Many Desires," she mused, hoping her tone was suitably neutral. "So, this place is sort of like a sex boot camp?"

Amanda chortled at the description, which, in many regards, was pretty apt. "Not quite," she dissembled. "Well, that's not _all_ they do their. The priestesses help females in other areas of their lives, as well."

"And you're _sure_ they're not V'tosh ka'tur?"

"I'm certain. Look, sweetheart, I talked this over with M'Umbha after inviting you to Vulcan. She's met most of the priestesses and she agrees that this probably is our best option."

Nyota made an admirable effort at keeping the shock from her face, but wasn't quite successful. "You told _Mama _about this? Why" Her voice, at least, was low and controlled, and she recomposed herself extraordinarily quickly.

Pride unfurled and swelled in Amanda's chest.

"We're here," she said instead of answering, and offered the younger woman a bright smile. "Let's go."

.

.

"Hashsu vi?"

"Uhura Wuh-lan, Yel-Halitra. Ko-fu fa-wak t'nash-veh."

The subject of their discourse only just managed to keep her panic from showing under the official's assessing gaze. So what if Ko-mekh had just told the stiff-faced Vulcan that Uhura was a Starfleet ensign, as well as her "future daughter," and would be piloting the shuttle to a vast desert planet known for its frequent volcanic activity? (And, apparently, a temple for Vulcan females with performance anxiety.) It was all true.

The official's gaze flicked over her PADD, then she gave a short nod of approval, saying "You are assigned to the shuttle, Sudef-bosh. Commence your pre-flight assessment then await instructions from Vulcan Central."

.

.

"The first thing you need to know," Amanda said, the moment they were alone on the shuttle, "is that my son doesn't know anything about what this is _really_ like. Most younger Vulcans don't, I suspect. They don't talk about it. Females learn about it through a meld with their mothers or matriarchs; males learn through their fathers' experiences.

"And I don't want you learning about it the way I did. Between the images and the emotional transference, T'Pau's meld left me terrified of what was to come. If it hadn't been for T'Arah and Wehk Aitlunlar, I don't know if I could have gone through with it."

She could see the younger woman only held her incredulity in check through sheer force of will. Nyota quickly turned her attention to completing the ground-check and Amanda just as quickly continued.

"What I mean is, they make it out to be a lot worse than it is," she explained. "Well, for _them_, the… Time — and I guess, to a lesser extent, for anyone bonded to a Vulcan — brings with it the shame of loss of control and divorce from logic. But it doesn't have to be this scary event that you wait for in dread and endure out of duty."

Her mind started to wonder off into places she didn't really have time to visit. She snapped her attention back to the present and explained further.

"It — Pon farr — can be violent. I won't tell you that it never is. But if you catch it early enough, it can be the most intensely satisfying experience you've ever known.

"Let me put it this way: if Spock's love feels like drinking a _Caffè Americano_, Spock's love during his Time will feel like drinking a triple espresso with a shot of _guaraná_."

"I don't drink coffee," Nyota murmured without looking at her.

Amanda sighed. Clearly Sarek had had a point about allowing the girl to spend so much time with their son. "Never mind about the coffee, Ennie. Just remember that it can, and _should_ be, a beautiful experience for you. We're going to Temple Wehk Aitlunlar to make sure you learn how to make it wonderful for Spock, too."

Nyota was quiet as she finished fiddling with the equipment, then signaled to Control that she was ready. She took a deep breath before turning wide, anxious eyes on Amanda.

"What if it doesn't work?" she asked, her voice hoarse with fear. "What if Spock and I are separated and I don't know and Spock pays the price?"

Amanda drifted back into the memory that made her cheeks flame.

.

_The heat of Sarek's need hit her like phaser fire. Nearly frightening in its intensity, it was also potentially addictive in its allure._

_She tired to peer at the faces of the other women in the room, but they'd all turned aside when she had suddenly stopped speaking. They all knew. Of _course_ they did._

"_Go to thy mate," T'Pau commanded her. "He has need of thee."_

_It was all she could do not to bolt out of the room._

.

"You'll know," she assured the younger woman. "Trust me. If it worked for a psi-null like me, someone with your Talent won't have a problem. You'll _know_, Ennie."

Uhura sucked back a groan of dismay. Emotional transference or not, part of her was starting to think that melding minds with T'Pau might have been a better solution , after all. Because there was knowing, and then there was _knowing_. And she figured it might be worth suffering through a little shame and fear to have the latter.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks again the women of STCC and WA (_not_ Wehk Aitlunlar, though they may as well be) for their continued encouragement. Oh and to nerdielady for naming the temple! And much love to TalesFromTheSpockSide, SpockLikesCats and SpockChick for (just seconds before I posted) saving T'Arah from being named T'Oli.

**A/N addendum: **If you haven't 't read 1C13:11, you missed Sarek and Amanda arguing over letting 9-year-old Uhura hang out with almost-18-year old Spock.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, any of its concepts or characters, and I don't profit from writing about them - except through your reviews!


	3. An Unforgettable Experience

"I think you'll really like Wehk Aitlunlar. It's much more relaxed than what you might expect from a Vulcan temple."

Uhura glanced up from the controls just long enough to glimpse Amanda's encouraging smile. In spite of the older woman's repeated assertions that "it's not that different from driving a hover!" she still wasn't comfortable at the helm. Sims and short hops with an instructor breathing down her neck were one thing; piloting a shuttle through open space was another thing altogether.

"It's on a volcanic desert that lacks a breathable atmosphere," she replied. "If, by some miracle, we manage to escape the lava flows and fail to asphyxiate, the heat might do the trick, instead."

"It's under a climate-controlled bio-dome, Ennie. Away from the volcanoes."

Uhura raised a skeptical brow, but didn't take her eyes off the forward viewscreen.

Amanda laughed, asking, "What? Did you think I was taking you to T'Khut to die? That would defeat the purpose, don't you think?"

Uhura's shoulders shook with silent glee, and she couldn't help easing up on her white-knuckled grip on the controls.

"On the other hand," Amanda mused, "that would be a good way of getting rid of inappropriate daughters-in-law. Too bad I didn't think of taking T'Pring…"

.

Although the planet was less than one hundred fifty thousand kilometers from Vulcan, the trip to T'Khut took more than a hour. Because the planet's orbit was locked with Vulcan's, there really wasn't an easy way to get where they were going. Nyota was forced to swing the shuttlecraft around to the opposite side in order to come within range of Temple Wehk Aitlunlar's sensors.

In spite of Ko-mekh's repeated reassurances coupled with instructions from what she supposed were priestesses (even the grounds crew and officials on Vulcan had been temple initiates, Ko-mekh said) on T'Khut's surface, seventy-three minutes just wasn't enough time for Nyota to conquer her doubts. She felt as if her guts had been grabbed by a giant as she adjusted the coordinates in preparation for an assisted landing.

"I won't get assistance when we return to Vulcan," she'd noted at one point. Ko-mekh had dismissed her fears. "You'll have plenty of experience by then, ko-fu. You'll be able to land this baby with your eyes closes and both hands tied."

Now, as she listened to directions briskly intoned by the young Vulcan equivalent of a samaneri who was currently assigned to Wehk Aitlunlar's shuttle guidance system, Nyota wondered if she'd even be able to enter T'Khut's nearly non-existent atmosphere with the assistance of a tractor beam. She wondered if the kid at ground control had any more experience in this than she did.

But she continued making adjustment, following novice priestess instructions.

.

.

Ennie was shaking by the time she brought the craft to a gentle rest in the underground port. Her left leg jumped up and down rapidly. She probably could have fooled most people she was merely excited. She knew better than to try that on Amanda.

"Never. Again. Ko-mekh." Even as she took taking slow, even breaths while the environmental controls normalized the air outside the shuttle, the girl managed to punctuate her declaration with a mutinous glare.

Amanda laughed at the challenge in her future daughter's eyes. It was almost cute, she thought but didn't say. Then she leaned over the navigator's seat and hit Myota with a hypo full of tri-ox.

"Who knows, sweetheart? By the end of our time here, you might love piloting as much as you love… other things."

.

Moments after the shuttle sensors indicated the air inside the cavern-like hangar had reached Vulcan-normal, a door embedded in the far wall, at least forty meters from the entrance, slid open to admit three robed figures.

Ko-mehk pressed a series of buttons to unseal the shuttle, then motioned for Uhura to follow her to the exit. Neither spoke as they walked down the short flight of stairs leading to the ground, and Uhura was able to focus on the approaching strangers.

As the trio drew closer, she was able to discern that they were three Vulcan females. The rail-thin one at the center of the group, if the faint lines and folds that accented her features were anything to go by, had seen two centuries if she'd seen a day, Uhura calculated.

The woman on her left was the same young samaneri who'd guided the landing. She looked far more robust than the ancient Vulcan, but was still slender. Her copper-brown skin practically glowed with health, and she lacked the austere visage Uhura had come to expect from members of her race.

The third Vulcan was a surprise, although Uhura thought she managed to hide her shock. She'd never seen a ginger Vulcan before, but this one had fiery locks piled atop her head. The redhead was quite a bit shorter than Uhura was accustomed to seeing, and the area between her neck and ribcage was more generously proportioned than she'd seen on anyone since Mama's Cousin Getta had stopped visiting from Betazed.

As one the three held up the ta'al, though only the old one spoke. "Peace and long life, Amanda T'Sai." Her voice flowed like dark honey, and Uhura could swear she almost smiled at Ko-mekh.

"Live long and prosper, T'Lin Tela'at, " Ko-mekh said, returning the gesture. Then, facing the samaneri, smiled and said, "T'Arah, it is pleasing to see you again. I am grateful for your assistance in this matter."

_That_ was T'Arah? _This_ was the 'old friend' who had helped Ko-mekh get over her T'Pau-induced fear of the Pon farr? Uhura had to remind herself that Vulcans aged much more slowly than humans. While she fought this newest shock into submission, Ko-mekh and the third woman, T'Peng, exchanged greetings.

"In landing this craft despite your fear, you have passed the first trial, Uhura Wuh-lan," the ancient Vulcan addressed her at last. "Welcome to Wehk Aitlunlar. T'Arah and Amanda T'sai will take you to your chamber while T'Peng and I ready your next test."

Uhura barely had time to get out a "Yes, Tela'at" before the old woman swung around with a sweep of her robes and went back the way she had come, the red-headed Vulcan at her heels.

.

"Why'd you choose flying a shuttlecraft for my ordeal?" Uhura whispered as she pulled their bags from the cargo bay.

"Really, Ennie, do you think mothers don't compare their kids' foibles and phobias? It's what we _do_."

"It is true," T'Arah called from outside the craft. "By contrasting our experiences, we mothers are able to advise one another on methods of child-rearing. It is, in some ways, comparable to what is done at Wehk Aitlunlar."

To be perfectly honest, Uhura didn't want to _think_ about the stories Mama and Ko-Mekh might have shared over the years. Especially not in the context of what she'd come to the temple to accomplish. Then again, there was a real possibility that her slip of the teeth wasn't the worst the deed the two women had shared. Surely when Spock was with that Risian…

Shaking her head, she hurried down the stairs behind Ko-Mekh. "What if I hadn't been afraid?" Uhura insisted. "What if I'd gotten over it already?"

Exchanging glances with T'Arah, Ko-Mekh smiled. "Then _Spock_ would have said something. But if you had, we would have used a pilot and you would have faced some other fear ."

.

.

T'Arah, who was _not_ the novice priestess Ennie had assumed her to be, led them to a small chamber carved into the stone beneath T'Khut's surface. Although a bio-dome protected the temple from the planet's harsh elements, much of Wehk Aitlunlar's business was conducted underground. Amanda was certain Nyota would come to appreciate the view of T'Khut from beneath dome in a matter of days.

"At times, even my people are hampered by fears," the Vulcan woman was explaining to their young companion. "While it is true that the majority of Wehk Aitlunlar's petitioners come here fearing a mate's Time, the priestesses give aid in many other areas, as well.

"As you and Spock are choice mates, and as you are human, your case is somewhat different from what they are accustomed to. Your ko-mekh asked me to return to the temple to ease you through the process. Based on Amanda's report, T'Lin and I have already devised a plan to help you."

Amanda could see the bewilderment building up on Ennie's face as her friend spoke. She almost felt sorry for the girl, but the memory of how much T'Arah had helped a much younger Amanda kept pity at bay.

"I do not understand," Ennie said. "I am not afraid of becoming Spock's mate."

"Are you not?" asked T'Arah. "Perhaps you do not fear becoming his mate," she conceded, "but what you _do_ fear may prevent you from carrying out your duties. And that could mean his death.

"You will confront this fear during your next ordeal. Then we will teach you how to move beyond it."

.

.

The second trial was conducted in a cold room buried even deeper than the chamber that would be hers for the next few days.

T'Lin Tela'at ordered the other two Vulcans to ease the young human onto a slab-like table. Ko-mekh was allowed to accompany her, but had to sit across the room without participating. Uhura longed for the other woman's touch.

While the Elder priestess watched over them, T'Peng and T'Arah stood on either side of her, and together initiated a three-way meld. She barely registered the unsurprised "_not entirely human_" or the "_easier to heal_?" floating through her mind before she was thrust back into a memory she would have preferred to forget.

.

_The first few days didn't feel much different from the first fifteen years. There were the stolen touches, of course, a casual brush of her fingers over his, a warm hand at her back guiding her around the apartment. But they'd been doing things like that almost from the time he'd returned to Earth. So, except for the occasional brain-scrambling kiss, and the fact that he slept next to her each night after her parents' arrival, being a fiancée didn't seem all that different from being a friend. Until the night before her parents were due to return to Garissa._

_Kissing Spock left Uhura senseless. The touch of his lips on hers produced a longing she could barely identify as carnal desire. It was more than that, really. She wanted to join with him physically, mentally, emotionally. She _needed_ to know everything he knew, feel everything he felt. She wished to give him the same gift of complete unity. _

_Each night he catalogued her body, touching and tasting until she couldn't think straight. Each night he brought her to a blinding climax and after, held her shivering body against his, whispering soothing words and projecting calm until she slipped in a sated sleep. He asked for nothing in return, claiming his telepathy allowed him to share in the pleasure he gave her, but the night before her parents were supposed go home, she took matters, and Spock, into her own hands._

"_My turn, k'diwa" she announced when his hands began their nightly journey. Pushing against his shoulders until he lay flat against the mattress, she began her own exploration._

_Resting on her side, propped up on one elbow, she traced the straight line of each up-swept eyebrow. She stroked the length of his nose with a single finger. Her thumb brushed the silken skin of his full lips._

_Kissing and nibbling at his neck, she discovered to her delight, left him erupting in tiny jerks and jolts and barely audible cries for more. Twining her fingers in the triangle of dark hair on his chest elicited unrestrained groans of pleasure. _

_She ghosted her free hand over his abdomen, then slid it over his hipbone. His response made her own breath catch._

"_Nyota," he pleaded in barely more than a whisper. _

_He reached out to restrain her, but she grabbed his wrist and brought his fingers to her mouth. _

_Sucking in just two of them nearly undid him._

"_Nyota!" he cried again, the volume the same, but the increased strain patently obvious. _

_Leaving off her suckling, she sat up and began running soothing hands up and down his arms. As his tremors calmed, she moved down to his hair-roughened thighs, squeezing and stroking, murmuring quietly as she worked her way down past his calves to knead taut Achilles' tendons. _

_She spent long moments massaging his long, perfectly-shaped feet before embarking on her return journey. _

_Nudging his legs apart, she knelt between his calves and leaned forward, staring for a long moment. He was glorious to look at and she was awash in the satisfaction that _she_ had brought him to this state. _

_The heat emanating from his engorged lok touched her cheek, beckoning her closer. She closed a hand around him at the base, squeezing gently, pressing her thumb against the underside of the long thick shaft as she drew her hand up. He moaned softly and she repeated the gesture several times before dipping her head to take the tip in her mouth._

_He tasted of copper, ginger and lime, and felt feverish against her tongue. He moaned again, encouraging her to take him deeper. She pushed down and he bucked his hips, rising to meet her._

_She dropped her shields, and reveled in the coolness of her own mouth enclosing his flesh. A maelstrom of searing bliss obliterated thought with every swipe of her tongue, with each exquisite press of her lips and cheeks. The sense of the pleasure she was giving was almost overwhelming as he filled her again and again._

_Uhura gripped the sheets in effort to counter the mounting pressure that boiled through their link. The world beyond this bewildering, extraordinary, magnificent being that was SpockandNyota faded and even that anchor was lost to her._

_White light burst into a thousand hues and she bit down against the splendid pain._

_She was shoved out of SpockandUhura before she could even register what happened, and Spock roared his agony._

_Her head snapped up and off him. Through tears she could not shed, she sobbed, "I'm so sorry!"_

.

Uhura was pulled from the memory just as swiftly as she'd been pushed from the link with Spock that night. Her whole body shook with grief and regret.

She felt the calm TPeng and T'Arah projected wash over her. Gradually, the trembling eased and her mind cleared.

"You fear hurting your adun," T'Peng stated. "You must not if you wish to use the best method for easing his Time when it comes."

Uhura stared at the woman, eyes broadcasting her confusion. There was only one way that she knew of for _her_ to ease Spock's Pon farr.

T'Lin stepped forward. T'Peng's hand fell away from Uhura's meld points as she stepped back. T'Arah remained on the human's other side.

The ancient one understood the unasked question. "It is true that there is only one preferred cure for a bonded pair," she said. "In order to make that cure easier for both parties, you must learn your sa-kugalsu's body, and learn to share pleasure with him, _before_ his Time comes."

"Let me share with you," the younger Vulcan said, "how the Pon farr _should_ feel when he calls for you."

Without warning, Uhura was flooded with a wave of affection and desire and need and gratitude that was unlike anything she had ever imagined existing. But even before T'Arah broke the meld, Uhura knew the sensation was that of an outside observer. She realized at once that when Spock directed those feelings towards her some day, the experience would be one she'd cherish forever. She wanted that feeling for herself.

"Do you understand _now_, ko-fu?" Ko-mekh asked from her seat across the room. "Do you see why I brought you here?"

"Thank you, Ko-mekh," she managed to whisper.

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own any Star Trek characters or concepts, and I've never been to Wehk Aitlunlar.


	4. Interlude the First

Christopher Pike folded his arms over his chest, leaned back in his seat and stared. His dinner lay untouched on the table before him. "How well do you know Special Envoy M'Umbha Wakufunzi-Uhura?"

Spock blinked. "M'Umbha Uhura bint Wakufunzi has known my mother since they attended the same university," he replied. "She became acquainted with my father when she was assigned to Vulcan as an under-ambassador in the Diplomatic Corps. I am not certain of the specific details, but that was more than a year before my birth. However, _Dr._ M'Umbha retired from the corps soon after the birth of her son, Muta. I was seven years old when the Uhuras returned to Earth."

Pike grinned grimly. "Well, apparently, just like in Starfleet, there's no such thing as actually retiring from the Diplomatic Corps. They've tapped your 'Dr. M'Umbha' for a short-term mission. She agreed under one condition."

It was clear from the expectant look on his commanding officer's face that Spock was required to respond. But how?

He suppressed a frown — the desire stemmed both from his use of his childhood nickname for Dr. Wakufunzi, and from concern about this disruption in life as a university professor — and said with a confidence he failed to feel, "I have been told that, during her service, she was well known for her ability to effect positive conclusions to… delicate circumstances."

"Well, that might partly explain why they were so adamant about pulling in an ex-dip who's been out of the game for nearly twenty years," Pike mused. "And if she's known you since you were born, _that_ might explain her single condition."

This time, the younger officer didn't waste time trying to guess what the captain wanted from him.

"What is that condition, sir?"

.

.

M'Umbha Uhura bint Wakufunzi managed not to chuckle at her future son-in-law's official greeting, but the decorous bow and the "Commander Spock at your service, Special Envoy Wakufunzi-Uhura" made her eyes gleam with barely concealed amusement. _There'll be time enough to loosen him up once they were alone_, she told herself. At the moment, there was work to be done.

"Thank you, Commander," she said just as formally as she offered him the garment bag and small case carrying all the personal items she would need for the trip. The diplomatic attaché, she held onto. "We are scheduled to depart in fifteen minutes. Shall we board now?"

Spock bowed again and gestured for her to precede him up the shuttle stairs.

"I have already completed the pre-flight check," he told her once they were settled into the pilot's and navigator's chairs. "For such a short journey, there is no real need for a navigator. If you wish to take your ease in one of the passenger seats, you might find them more comfortable."

She grinned at that. After all, once the shuttle door had been sealed, there was no one else to see them.

"Trying to get rid of me already, mwana?" she chided teasingly, and was pleased to see the formality pour out of him. He was very nearly smiling when he turned from the controls to answer, "Of course not, Mama."

_This is going to go even better than I thought it would,_ thought M'Umbha.

.

.

Spock wasn't completely unfamiliar with the practice of making polite conversation. He _was_ an ambassador's son, after all. But only fifteen days had elapsed since the week he'd spent in Dr. M'Umbha's company had concluded, so "small talk" was quickly exhausted. Once she'd apprised him of the new research project she intended to embark on after their return to Earth, there really wasn't anything left to say. He settled into a comfortable silence, certain that if there was a topic she wished to discuss, his beloved's mother would bring it up when she was ready.

After forty minutes had passed, during which Dr. M'Umbha had done nothing more than hum quietly and occasionally chuckle over the device she'd pulled from her bag as soon as their conversation had ceased, he was no longer feeling quite so comfortable.

"Mama?"

"Hmm?"

He glanced over at her; she hadn't looked up from her device to answer.

"Why didn't the Diplomatic Corps insist on sending their own pilot and Guard to accompany you? Surely a delicate state of affairs would usually warrant that."

"Delicate?" Her trilling laughter _was_ delicate, even if her incredulous tone suggested the mission was not. Even then, she didn't stop peering at her device. "Oh, mwana! Do you really believe they would choose me to handle anything sensitive with _you_ in tow?"

Swallowing a tiny hint of unease — Wakufunzi women were capable of enacting the most complicated plots, after all — Spock forged on.

"It seemed likely that you were appointed in spite of your retirement because of the special skills you were known for during your tenure in the corps."

Finally, she spared him a glance.

"Well, _usually_ that's the case."

"Usually?" he prompted before she could go on.

Smiling sympathetically, Dr. M'Umbha said, "Spocky, no one ever _really_ retires from the corps. I get perhaps one assignment every two years—more than most, granted—and usually they are missions that require my 'special skills.' This time they just asked me because the university is on break and because the Thebians are already familiar with the Wakufunzi name. My cousin Rasul was the first Federation representative they ever dealt with.

"Alemannisch Guardisten would be wasted for two low-level meetings and a state ball," she replied, referring to the elite (and supposedly neutral) non-Federation bodyguard unit that protected diplomats across the galaxy.

"I see," Spock said. And he did. Obviously, she'd chosen him as her escort for personal reasons. Ignoring her husband's warnings about the dangers of upsetting a Wakufunzi woman, he bravely sought satisfaction for his increasing curiosity. "What are your plans for me, then?"

Dr. M'Umbha laughed, loud and hard.

"I should have known I couldn't fool you, mtoto!" She handed him the device that had kept her so preoccupied for so long. "Here," she said. "You look at this, and I'll take the controls."

When he raised a skeptical brow, she added, "Surely by now you've noticed how peripatetic we Wakufunzis tend to be. Just about every one of us is trained to pilot a shuttle. And just about all of us are good at it. Nyota is an aberration."

Knowing he was treading dangerous ground, Spock nonetheless felt compelled to defend his ko-kugalsu. "She continues to receive excellent marks for her pilot training."

"Pah!" Dr. M'Umbha waved a dismissive hand, then ran her fingers over the controls, expertly transposing the pilot and navigational stations. "Simulations and guided hops. She's terrified of flying a real shuttle on her own." She shook her head. "Oh well. By the time Amanda and the priestesses of WA are through with her, she'll have conquered that fear, too."

Spock decided that last remark didn't require comment from him, but he still wondered what could possibly be happening to his beloved at the mysterious Temple Wehk Aitlunlar. Then, a glance down at the device he was holding chased all thoughts about priestesses, T'Khut and Pon farr from his mind.

.

.

M'Umbha watched Spock watching the holograph displayer. She bit back a smile as he thumbed past holo after embarrassing holo of nude babies and awkward toddlers. When he paused on one, studying it intently, she leaned over to see that he'd reached a holo of himself, around three Terran years old, grinning wildly, his face covered in deep violet muck.

"Benjamin and Amanda thought it would be fun to make blueberry pies that day. Fortunately, they got you all cleaned up before your father and I were through with our meeting. Even more fortunately, they saved pictorial evidence for me to enjoy at a later date!"

"I remember that day," Spock said quietly. Then he began scrolling again.

The next time he paused, M'Umbha saw that he'd stopped at a holo featuring a toddler Nyota nestled in his arms. She'd captured that particular moment herself, just two days after the two children had met and her daughter had declared her intention of marrying her "new best friend."

Nyota's tiny fist gripped Spock's tunic as she smiled in her sleep. Spock leaned back beneath the umbrella thorn that Nyota would eventually call her "thinking tree," his own dark eyes open, but unreadable. And yet he held his precious cargo with a gentleness that would have eluded many twelve-year-olds.

"I should have realized even back then," M'Umbha observed with a wistful smile. When Spock met her eyes, curiosity evident, she explained, "Wakufunzi women usually get their way, you know."

.

.

_I should have realized_, Spock told himself as he scrolled through the holographs loaded on the device Dr. M'Umbha had labeled **Good For Spock & Nyota's Wedding Reception?** Even the invitation (which had really been a command) to share a meal with Captain Pike had been a part of her plan.

"Did Baba worry that I would have difficulty adjusting to Nyota's temporary absence?"

Dr. M'Umbha feigned a hurt expression, but Spock was not fooled.

"You don't think that _I _might have been the one who worried?" she asked, poking her lip out in an exaggerated pout.

"You are right, Mama. A xenopsychiatrist as renowned as Baba would not even suggest that a Vulcan might become… lonely after only two days away from his ko-kugalsu," he teased back, his face and voice utterly devoid of emotion.

"Even if she happens to be his dvel-telsu."

When Dr. M'Umbha's trilling laughter finally stopped reverberating throughout the shuttle, he turned to her and said, "Thank you."

* * *

**A/N:** "Dvel-telsu" is a word I just made up - seconds ago - by joining "dvel" (choice, according to the Vulcan Language Dictionary) and "telsu" (bonded, same source. Ko-telsu is another word for "adun'a" as sa-telsu is another for "adun" which are wife and husband, respetively).

Disclaimer: I don't own any Star Trek characters or concepts, and I'm not a Wakufunzi woman.


	5. An Unseemly Secret

Twelve hours later, the real work began. A young woman, dressed in the distinctive robes of a temple acolyte, led Uhura from her chamber and through several corridors carved from the living rock. She didn't introduce herself, and didn't bother answering either to the two questions the human bothered to ask. They walked in silence for what the Starfleet officer estimated to be more than two, but less than three kilometers, passing closed doors and gaping entryways to huge halls along the way.

She got an answer to her first question when (Finally!) they reached a small door that opened into a seemingly unadorned room. Its matte grey walls were a sharp contrast to the red rock of the corridor and Uhura's own chamber. The attendant gestured for her to wait then withdrew, still without having said a word.

_Great,_ Uhura groused just as silently, _they make me hike the length and breadth of T'Khut, only to stick me in the Vulcan equivalent of a padded room?_

There wasn't even anywhere to sit! Starfleet physical training ensured that she was almost always prepared to walk and stand for long periods, but she hadn't been expecting to need that preparation during this trip.

And the room was markedly colder than anywhere else she'd been in the temple. She'd packed for Vulcan temperatures, and her thin tunic and trousers didn't come close to being warm enough.

_Ko-mekh,_ she thought with a bitterness born of fear and discomfort, _you got a lotta 'splainin' to do!_

.

.

From the small observation area above the room, Amanda watched Nyota's growing unease with a heavy heart. She knew the purpose, but that didn't mean that she agreed with the method. Ennie wasn't Vulcan, and she hadn't really wanted this.

_I hope she remembers how much I love her by the time we're done here,_ she hoped.

"Amanda T'Sai." T'Lin's voice broke into her reverie. She blinked and glanced over to find the older woman watching her. "Your son's ko-kugalsu is remarkably calm for a human. I find that I am unable to determine whether her defenses are reduced sufficiently so that we might begin the next phase of her instruction."

Having known the young woman for the entirety of her short life had its advantages. Few people outside Ennie's immediate family and Spock would be able to tell, but Amanda knew her future daughter was close to jumping out of her skin. She was pretty certain T'Arah recognized the signs, as well. A quick look at her friend confirmed this.

"She is ready," the human assured the elder of the two priestesses.

T'Lin turned and nodded to her acolyte.

"You will carry the sutor-lok," she said, then addressed Amanda again. "Come, T'Sai. If my knowledge of humans is accurate, she will appreciate your presence."

She wanted to protest — there were some things a mother-in-law just didn't need to see — but stopped at another glance from T'Arah. Her friend's eyes were bright with barely concealed amusement.

_Oh yeah,_ Amanda thought, _Ennie's _really_ going to want me to hold her hand_ this_ time._

.

.

All the imitation Vulcan reserve in the world couldn't have kept Uhura from jumping in surprise when the temperature suddenly rose several degrees Celsius and the walls and floor appeared to ripple. Holding her breath, she risked darting a look at the ceiling. Yup, that looked like it was undulating, too.

By the time her surroundings resolved themselves into something that bore more than a passing resemblance to the room she'd shared with Spock at Uncle Tabansi's apartment, her heart had stopped racing and she was able to feign calm again.

A holosuite.

She'd heard of them, of course. But she'd never had an opportunity to actually visit one. Vulcans had developed them as instructional aid, and guarded the technology fiercely. The few that weren't on Vulcan, its colonies or in its off-world embassies were run by all-Vulcan teams of technicians. In the hands of their less pragmatic allies, the High Council claimed, the devices could be dangerous. As she examined the room more closely — it really _did _feel like she was back in San Francisco; even down to Spock's boots peeking out of the closet and the scent of her perfume oils in the air — she realized they might be right.

Her ears picked up the sound of water running in what would have been the en suite sanitary facility had any of this been real, and her heart started pounding again.

_Gods! Please, don't let that mean what I—_

The thought was cut off as the "bedroom door" swung open.

Ko-mekh stepped in, three Vulcan women in her wake. Uhura's mind swam back to the last time she'd spoken to Lady Amanda from "this" room. She couldn't stop herself from shooting a guilty glance at the bed just to make sure a half-naked Spock hadn't suddenly materialized, tangled in the sheets.

Eyes flying forward again, she nodded at the quartet and raised her hand in the ta'al.

The elderly priestess motioned forward the same acolyte who had led Uhura to the room.

"You are ready for the next phase of your instruction, Wuh-lan," T'Lin intoned. Her nod of approval belied her passionless voice. She looked almost… proud.

_V'tosh ka'tur or no_, Uhura decided, _the women of Wehk Aitlunlar were _not_ your average Vulcans._

.

.

She didn't mean to look. She promised herself she _wouldn't _look.

Amanda's eyes had other ideas.

They tracked the young assistant as she cradled her wooden box in one arm and lifted the lid with her free hand.

They widened when she slid that hand into the cloth-lined sanctuary. And they misted over with pride when the girl eased the soft green instrument up so that Nyota could view it.

She heard T'Arah say, "I followed your memories as closely as I was able, Wuh-lan Nyota. You must tell me if it is satisfactory."

Her future daughter's response was lost on her as memory pulled her back.

.

_In hindsight, she wondered why they'd waited. Why Sarek hadn't said something sooner._

_By that point, she already knew that his race's infamously cool demeanors were a cover for their deeply passionate natures. This Vulcan standing before her, silently stripping off his tunic and trousers had proven that again and again since her young friends had introduced her to him._

_In just over four months, M'Umbha's mentor had shown her a greater love than she thought possible for any being, let alone a "cold-blooded" Vulcan. Sarek, Ambassador to Earth, son of Skon, owned Amanda Grayson, heart and soul. And he was about to add body to the list._

_She wasn't expecting anything astonishing. When he'd proposed marriage, just a month into their courtship, he'd assured her that humans and Vulcans were physically compatible. A less-than- extraordinary physique couldn't mitigate her devotion._

_Her breath caught when he revealed his muscled torso for the first time. He was as close to perfection as any museum's best specimens of classical statuary. Powerful thighs and sculpted calves made her heart stutter._

_When he removed his briefs to stand before her in all his impressive glory, her heart and lungs stopped working altogether_

.

Spock, if Ennie's memory was even close to accurate, was very much his father's son, Amanda noted proudly.

_That's my boy! _she thought.

_._

_._

Memory can be a tricky thing, but Uhura's rarely failed her with objects she studied carefully. In those situations, her recall had been officially measured as near-eidetic. Ask her to produce a diagram of circuitry for the very first communicator she'd ever pried apart and any communications engineer could use the schematic she produced to manufacture units capable of contacting Betazed.

In the days immediately following her eighteenth birthday, studying the parts of Spock's body with which she was not already acquainted had become something of a hobby of hers. Some might have called it an obsession. Whatever anyone had to say on the subject, that she now knew his body better than the back of her own hand was indisputable truth.

.

_T'Lin, T'Arah and the unnamed acolyte had disappeared soon after the presentation of the "learning tool." Ko-mekh had remained behind, looking almost as uncomfortable as Uhura was feeling, to offer moral support until T'Peng had arrived for the first lesson._

"_You don't have to stay," Uhura had assured her. Flushing with a mixture of relief and embarrassment, her beloved's mother hadn't even tried to pretend she'd be just fine sticking around._

"_You'll do just fine, Ennie," she'd said, dropping a quick kiss on Uhura's forehead before practically running from the room. "I have faith in you."_

_She'd nearly knocked T'Peng over in her efforts to escape._

"_Are you ready to begin, Uhura Wuh-lan?" the redhead had asked, pulling her own sutor-lok out of its protective case. Uhura had gotten the feeling she was biting back a grin_

_._

Uhura lay on the bed, studying the learning tool . She knew the priestesses were watching somewhere, waiting for her to begin, but continued to marvel at its construction.

Turning it over and over in her hands, she carefully examined the disturbingly accurate replica of her lover's lok with no small measure of trepidation. Its shape, heft and the varying hues of its "skin" had all been reproduced flawlessly. Every vein and wrinkle was present. The curve of the corona was a perfect match to the original.

While her saner self appreciated the artistry and talent that had been expended in creating the sutor-lok, the irrational part of her resented the fact that other women — even Ko-mekh! — had gotten a glimpse of the beautifully-worked piece.

_That prissy little acolyte even touched it! _

Uhura gritted her teeth to keep from growling. Then the irony of what she was doing hit her, and she forced her jaw to unclench.

_At least I'm not excited this time_, she told herself as she flopped onto her belly and propped herself up on her elbows.

Forcing her mind back to the task — and object — at hand, she closed her eyes to better focus on T'Peng's detailed lesson. She arranged the fingers of her left hand around the base of the sutor-lok in the manner the diminutive redhead demonstrated. Her right hand closed around the warm, heavy shaft; she began to stroke upwards and outwards until it began to stiffen.

Eyes closed or not, trying to pretend she didn't know she was being watched was a wasted effort. As soon as the false flesh turned rigid beneath her fingertips and palm, Uhura dipped her head and let her lips travel a path opposite to the one her hand had traveled. Her tongue made a tentative exploration and fears about observation started to fade as more intriguing discoveries took up mind-space.

_It even tastes like Spock! _

Thus motivated, soon she was enthusiastically licking and sucking and mostly following the technique T'Peng had suggested would be most effective.

Then she lost herself completely in the taste and feel of the warmest part of Spock and her heart pounded heavily in her chest. Her head swam and her nostrils flared. Her face and chest flushed. Heat and moisture gathered as parts of her kotik began to swell.

Awash in memory and growing excitement, she pushed her head down, forcing the tool deeper. She fumbled around, changing her grip, until her trembling left hand was free to wedge itself between the bed and her ko-lok. Gently at first, she worked herself as her mouth continued to work the sutor-lok.

_Gods!_ The thought was torn from her mind as the device jerked against her tongue and — she'd thought it impossible! — became even harder. Her left hand was frantic, her brain scrambled. She lost all awareness of her facial muscles and—

The scream of clanging klaxons accompanied by a hot sodium light trained directly on her face had her off the bed and on her feet in less than two seconds.

She stood, panting, the sutor-lok hanging limply from her right hand. Bright red flashes, pulsing in time with the klaxons, left her disoriented in spite of the Academy simulations they resembled.

Heat left her core to burn her cheeks. Mortification churned her stomach. A different kind of dizzy made her head spin as a full minute passed before the cacophony and light show ended.

Her respiration and heart rates slowed in inverse relation to her growing humiliation. Wondering how the priestesses would deal with her failure, she sank back onto the bed.

An answer came quickly.

"Uhura Wuh-lan." T'Lin's voice came from everywhere and nowhere. "You will try again."

.

.

"You did _much_ better the ninth try, ko-fu."

Uhura decided her life couldn't be any worse if M'Umbha had been the one to speak those words. She tried not to glare at Ko-mekh.

And failed.

She felt like throwing up.

"Look, sweetie," she said, squeezing the younger woman's shoulder, "how about I make some excuse to 'disappear' for a little while now that you've almost graduated to the holosub?"

_I was wrong_, Uhura decided, _life _can _get worse._

But she was grateful for whatever reprieve she could get, so, ignoring the reminder that she was one successful session with the sutor-lok away from graduating to practicing on a "holoSpock" she smiled tremulously at Ko-mekh and said, "Deal."

She let Amanda enfold her in a motherly hug and was actually starting to feel a little better when she felt her stiffen.

"Oh, _ko-fu_," Amanda whispered. "I don't think I'll be making up excuses after all."

.

.

"It'll keep on getting easier. I promise."

The look Ennie angled at her either said "How would _you_ know?" or "You expect me to believe _you_?" Amanda wasn't sure which. She hadn't seen that expression on the younger woman's face in close to five years.

"Honestly, En," she insisted. "It'll be a cinch. You'll see. Without me there to possibly walk in on you at any moment, half your worries will be over."

Ennie huffed out an impatient breath, but didn't take her eyes off the controls again.

"It'd be easier if T'Arah left too," she admitted.

Surprised, Amanda looked at her sharply. "T'Arah? You barely know her!"

Then she saw the girl's shoulders relax a little and her hands lost some of the white-knuckled tension they'd maintained since takeoff.

"She has that look," Ennie said. "The same one you and Mama get. The 'Ko-Mama' look. It'd be easier if I didn't have to see _that_ every time I turned around."

Amanda knew exactly what look she was talking about. In fact, M'Umbha often joked that they'd both learned the somewhat indulgent, vaguely teasing mask of incomplete Vulcan reserve from T'Arah, although she hadn't noticed her Vulcan friend using it on Ennie.

She couldn't stop the bubbles of laughter that escaped her or the shaking shoulders that came with them. Her eyes were full of tears by the time she could breathe again.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," she said when she noticed Nyota's expression — this one unmistakably disbelief. "I was just thinking of the last time your mom and I were at Wehk Aitlunlar and _T'Arah_ was the one waiting at home while her little girl went through the training, she predicted 'Perhaps one day you will learn how it feels when a daughter turns to another in her mother's place. I think I shall not behave as you do, my friends.' And now that day is here and she's just… wrong."

Explained, the story wasn't nearly as funny as it had been in her mind, but the laughter had brought her the release she needed. By the time they'd completed the short trip to her adopted planet, all traces of Amanda's anxiety were gone.

"Are you and… Sa-mekh going to be okay?" Ennie wanted to know after she'd completed her second successful landing. "I mean, it's, um, weeks early, right? That's not… abnormal?"

Amanda really wished she had the time to properly comfort the girl, but the call of Sarek's need was getting stronger by the minute. "Believe me, Nyota, we'll be very, very 'okay'!" A part of her felt a little guilty when Ennie's cheeks bloomed dusky rose, but she only shrugged and smiled. Wasn't this the point of the trip to Wehk Aitlunlar in the first place? Nyota would learn for herself one day just how "okay" it could be. "We were expecting it a little later, but the timing of the Time is never quite exact." She drifted back to the morning before they'd left for the temple. "I should have realized, though. The day you got here, he was acting so oddly. I thought I might be late, he took so long at…"

Uhura felt her face heat as Ko-mekh trailed off, already lost in carnal dreams of whatever Sa-mekh had planned for her. She shuddered at the thought.

"Right," she said aloud. "Well, don't let me keep you. I, uh, I'd better get back to T'Khut before they give my sutor-lok to Little Miss Obedient Acolyte!"

After another quick hug and kiss, Amanda hurried from the hangar to the private terminal, too busy thinking of what Sarek had planned for her to wonder that Nyota was suddenly eager to pilot a shuttle on her own.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks Aphrodite420 and TalesFromTheSpockSide for real-time betaing.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, any of its concepts or characters, and I don't profit from writing about them - except through your reviews!


	6. Interlude the Second

The Citadel at Luxor, the Thebian capital, more than lived up to the city's name. In striking contrast to its purposely nondescript mud-brick façade, the interior had been furnished in a fashion designed to display the wealth of the planet's leader.

Certain Nyota would have been captivated by the beauty of the palace, Spock made careful note of architectural and decorative features as a loquacious official led them through the Nesu-Bit's splendid residence.

Limestone walls were clad in carved alabaster and pressed gold. Columns, covered in tesserae cut primarily from lazurite and nephrite and arranged into mosaics depicting the aquatic scenes citizens of the desert planet seemed to treasure, forested the rooms of state. The green-veined polished marble floors were almost as drab as the exterior in comparison.

By the time he was deposited in his suite of rooms, he'd gained a new appreciation for the ascetic quality characteristic of Starfleet faculty housing.

.

.

Three hours later, Spock stepped from a warm bath and thoroughly dried himself with a thick linen towel. He tossed it onto a low marble bench and was about to reenter his sleeping room when the door opened to admit three strangers.

He stared at the line of tall women blocking his exit from the bathing chamber. Each was barefoot and wore an un-dyed linen wrap about her hips. None was wearing anything — not even hair, he noted — above the waist. Only filigreed designs — painted in gold and blue, marking them as personal servants of the Nesu-Bit — covered that vast expanse of copper-colored skin.

Much as he had just done, six large dark eyes embedded in three beautiful oval-shaped faces traced his body from toe to head. Spock quickly snatched up his discarded towel and wrapped it securely around his waist. While Vulcan mores did not preclude him from remaining nude before these invaders of his suite, he guessed (with a fair amount of certainly) that Nyota would not approve.

The unknown women, on the other hand, had inspected his anatomy with obvious approval.

"May I help you?" he asked, for want of anything better to say.

Even as he finished speaking, the woman in the center smiled and stepped forward, holding up a gold-colored beaten-leather belt and a length of dyed byssus, linen so delicately woven it was nearly transparent. The pale green cloth had been arranged into hundred of fine crisp pleats.

"We come to dress you, my lord," she purred, eying the towel hungrily. "We bring you garments for tonight's entertainments."

"That will not be necessary," he told her, taking a step back. She took another step forward. "I have brought my own clothing."

"Not noble Thebian garb," the second one cooed, and she too advanced, carrying a large, heavily decorated usekh. She hefted the golden collar, displaying its jewel-encrusted chest- and shoulder plates. Her lips curved into a suggestive smile as her gaze also fell below his waist.

"The Nesu-Bit chose her gifts wisely," said the third. She tucked intricately-wrought sandals under her arms and scurried forward to kneel fluidly at his feet. Spock hurriedly clamped his thighs together after catching her peeking up under the towel. "The shendyt she has provided matches your man-spear."

He was saved from further protest when Dr. M'Umbha — _Mama_ — burst through the door dressed in a flowing kalasiris the color of ripe apricots.

"My daughter does not allow other females to dress her man," she explained gently, but in a manner that discouraged dispute. With a last longing look at the one belonging to her daughter, the serving women placed the garments on the bench and withdrew without further protest.

"Thank you, Mama," Spock said sincerely once they were alone.

"Don't think for a minute that this means you're not going to have to wear the clothes our hostess has provided," she warned him, folding her arms across her chest in a pose that instantly made him think of Nyota. "Nesu-Bit Useretnefer does not readily tolerate rejection of her largess."

In spite of his cooled relationship with Sarek of Vulcan, Spock's sense of being the son of an ambassador remained deeply ingrained. The clothing was not a matter to quibble over… as long as he didn't have to endure the touch of fawning attendants to don the chosen garment.

"Very well," he said.

Without a trace of shame, Spock dropped the towel again and asked his future mate's mama to demonstrate how to don the ruler's gifts.

Shaking her head, she managed to stifle the "My, how you've grown" that instantly sprang to mind and explained how he should begin by wrapping the shendyt about his right hip then work his way to the left.

.

"Damn! _This_ is why they all have dressers." M'Umbha snatched the shendyt from Spock's normally nimble fingers and marched out of to the bathing chamber with it.

Following her unspoken command (_some_ things were universal with mothers), he quickly followed.

"Stand there," she ordered, pointing to a spot near a soft-looking rectangular rug at the foot of the narrow bed. "Wait. Go back and get the rest."

The African woman tapped her foot against the green-flecked marble while Spock dutifully trotted back to the bathroom to retrieve the usekh and sandals.

_Forgive me, Nyota_, she prayed silently, even as she reminded herself that Amanda was probably having equally awkward experiences with the girl this week.

M'Umbha also reminded herself that she been in the habit of changing this boy's diapers and therefore had no reason to be surprised by what was surely a daughter-pleasing, er, surprise. She was surprised — and a little disturbed by his blithe lack of discomfort at traipsing around in the buff (She sincerely hoped he didn't make a habit of it. Nyota had inherited _her_ temper, after all.) — nonetheless. That didn't stop her from surreptitiously checking for teeth marks.

Apparently, she wasn't stealthy enough.

"The bruises have faded," he informed her. Noting her chagrin at having been caught, he changed the subject. "None of this would be necessary if the Nesu-Bit was made to understand that I mean no disrespect in wearing my dress uniform."

"Shut up, mwana," she told him, and tugged the belt taut around his waist. "By allowing her to choose our clothing, we are exhibiting her wealth and power." She ran a finger between the golden leather and his skin, she threaded one end of the shendyt through and began wrapping him in meters of linen. "Thebian custom prohibits her from wearing anything but the most simply-made articles. On special occasions, she's allowed to wear white byssus, but usually only her gold and lapis seshed sets her apart from her lowest laborer. And trust me, the royal circlet is hardly elaborate."

After completing a complex series of folds, she tucked the other end under the golden girdle from which point she drew it back and tucked it in again. He was left wearing both a pleated kilt and a crude undergarment, all crafted from the same translucent green cloth.

"I fail to see how garbing visitors of state in riches is a more assertive attestation of her authority than what her people have recognized as the ultimate symbol of supremacy for thousands of years."

Mama M'Umbha clicked her tongue at him. "She doesn't need to show off for Thebians. It's the offworlders and the Kooshian separatists she thinks need reminding. Until gain Federation membership is a sure thing, Thebia is still vulnerable."

He wanted to argue further, but Baba's advice about dealing with Wakufunzi women was never far from his mind.

Mama walked over to the bed and picked up the usekh. After a moment spent examining its closures, she carried it back to him and swiftly set it in place.

"Turn," she ordered. In seconds, she finished securing the jeweled collar and breast-plate and spun him around again.

"There" Mama stepped back to peer at him carefully. "Not bad," she pronounced. "Especially considering I haven't done this since Benjamin was your age!" She chuckled and patted Spock on the shoulder. "If only they'd given us one of those wigs. Why, you'd look just the way you should have that time when you refused to cut you hair and Ennie decided you needed braids. I'm sure I have a holo of it somewhere. Oh! Don't let me forget to add it to the collection, mwana."

"I will remember," Spock told her, not quite grimacing.

He did not, M'Umbha noticed, promise to remind her. She stifled several chuckles while they waited for a servant to lead them to the ball.

.

.

Dressed (or, in many cases, _un_dressed) in varying versions of tradition Thebian attire, representatives of various worlds circulated among the blue and green columns of the ballroom. Completely without conceit, Spock note that he and Mama did far more justice to the garb than many of the other non-Thebian humanoids present. He didn't even attempt to judge how well — or how poorly — they complemented the forms of more divergent species.

He also did not fail to notice that Mama was among the few offworlders who was able to acquit herself gracefully when the Nesu-Bit called for her guests to perform a complex dance involving the columns. He found even he — despite his innate rhythm — had some difficulty with following the steps.

Spock knew a moment of trepidation when a willowy figure in white wended its way through the crowd, caught Mama M'Umbha in her assessing gaze and said, "You dismissed the servants I sent to attire your son by marriage."

He moved to place a protective hand on Mama's shoulder lest the beautiful woman whose slender form couldn't hide her lithe strength decide she was offended enough to cause an interstellar incident.

But Nesu-Bit Useretnefer simply ran her eyes over him and went on to say, "I can see why your daughter asks her mother to protect what is hers" then nodded and disappeared amidst her guests again.

"Well," Mama said once they were comparatively alone again, "that's that. I think the Corps Director will be pleased with my report." She smiled her brilliant smile and patted the hand that still rested on her shoulder.

"That is what?" Spock asked. "Surely there is to be more to this visit than the Thebian ruler approving of your daughter's taste in mates."

"Of course there is, mwana," she assured him. "We'll take care of that tomorrow. Tonight, I just needed to make a show of impressing her." She patted his hand again. "Having you along did that quite nicely."

.

.

Less than seventy-two Standard hours later, M'Umbha stretched in the shuttle's navigator seat and scrolled through her holo displayer.

"It's a good thing I got so many pictures of you in all your Thebian finery," she told Spock. "It will probably take Ennie a long time to learn how to wrap you in a shendyt."

"Indeed," he replied, never taking his eyes off the controls. "Though I suppose she would not be averse to asking her mother to demonstrate for her."

Laughing, M'Umbha clicked off the displayer and peered at her son-to-be. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her warm smile. "No, she probably wouldn't mind all that much. I guess I'll just have to save the holos for another occasion."

* * *

**A/N:** In this chapter, I use byssus in the old sense of the word — extremely finely-woven linen. FYI: With my pseudo-betas fully focused on the other five fics I'm actively working on, this one is on it's own. Fortunately, it's only two chapters away from completion.

Disclaimer: Don't own.


	7. An Unlikely Ally

**An Unlikely Ally**

Uhura sat in the pilot's chair, torn between wondering why she hadn't yet been cleared for take-off and wondering how the hell she was going to pilot the shuttle without Ko-mekh's (somewhat) calming presence. She checked and rechecked the small ship's systems and waited some more.

A standard hour later, around the time she was reaching the end of her patience, a light on the comm panel began flashing. She brushed her fingers over the screen, activating the speaker.

"Uhura Wuh-lan, stand by for your passenger."

_Passenger?_

.

.

The trip back to her home on the outskirts of ShiKahr was a blur. Amanda saw nothing of the city's soaring buildings or of the harsh beauty of the rocky outcroppings crowning the surrounding hills. Her mind had little room for anything beyond the silent, nevertheless potent pull of Sarek's need — a compulsion to _join_ that was rapidly becoming her own. What little brainspace remained was given over to a twinge of guilt-laced concern over having abandoned Ennie.

It was difficult to hold on to that thought, impossible to consider a solution. Sarek's want — _her_ want was consuming her. She needed to go to her mate. He needed to received her.

He met her at the heavy, narrow front doors of the residence. The servants had already been banished.

With her goal so near, Amanda's mind cleared enough for her to think to scan his face, to search for secondary confirmation that he was not yet too far gone to control the chaos. To assure herself she wouldn't have to prevail over fever and madness.

Under her careful scrutiny, a silly smile bowed his lips and lit his eyes. "Come," he said, holding out his hands, the grin spreading. "Come before the heat enters our home. We'll have fires enough if you tarry."

She lacked the strength to stop an answering smile from erasing her concerned frown. Left unchecked, even her husband's happiness could be overwhelming, making it hard to think about anything beyond the two-that-are-one that was their bond.. Rushing forward, she allowed him to pull her against his chest, and spin them both around so that he could kick the door closed.

Seconds later, she was in his arms while he ran through their home. Joy, anticipation and just the first flickers of desire pumped through their bond, leaving Amanda nearly as giddy as him.

_Still_, a voice at the back of her mind protested, _there's Ennie…_

It took a moment to realize they'd reached their bed chamber and that Sarek was gently setting her on her feet.

"All is well, adun'a," he murmured against her neck. "She who shall be our daughter will continue to learn to save our son. I asked T'Pau to travel back to the temple with her."

Amanda stiffened. Or, she would have if that hadn't been impossible under the onslaught of her husband's desire and affection. His chaotic emotions, unbound by logic, continued to pour in.

Settling for a weak shiver, she managed to squeak, "T'Pau?" and let the memory of her own disastrous experience with the woman call up an old fear that colored the more… pleasant feeling radiating from Sarek.

Chuckling softly, the Vulcan lifted his head and caught his mate's face in his hands.

Amanda raised her eyes to see the that the slightly sloppy, sentimental smile had returned. It was a Herculean feat not to become lost in his wave of warmth and love.

"She is strong, our ko-fu," he told her and another quiet trill of laughter vibrated his chest. "I knew that from the first moment I held her in my arms. Then, I thought her dangerous and sought to protect our son from her; now, I believe that strength shall work to Spock's advantage. It will also keep Nyota from faltering before T'Pau."

His hands fell from her face to her left shoulder, were his fingers found the fasteners for her inner robe.

"Now," Sarek whispered, warm affection suddenly transformed back into searing desire, "let us think no more of our children…"

Then the last physical barrier between them was gone and his hot mouth closed over her erect nipple leaving no space at all for worrying about the 'children.'

.

.

"Vulcan Central to Sudef-bosh. Set coordinates to a heading of three five mark two nine seven for travel to T'Khut."

Uhura's fingers flew over the controls, steady under what she imagined to be her passenger's watchful eye. Upon T'Pau's arrival at the shuttle — with the explanation that she would be taking over Amanda Grayson's as the familial connection during the Wehk Aitlunlar education — the human woman had been able to subdue her dismay at the turn of events. She'd been able to swallow the instinctive impulse to protest when the older woman had stated that the "private matter" which had called Ko-mekh back to her mate's side was advantageous in its timing.

Now, the matriarch of S'chn T'gai merely raised a brow at the announcement. "Presumptuous," she pronounced.

.

"T'sai?" queried the human girl.

"The priestesses of the humanistic temple assume much by naming their ship 'the full womb,' does it not?"

"I do not have enough data to make such a determination, Tela'at," Spock's ko-kugalsu replied with an obviously well-practiced deference.

Turning in her seat, T'Pau examined the girl carefully. Although she did not twitch and fill the air with needless talking, it was clear that she was uneasy. Nervous.

Lowering the strongest of her shields, T'Pau waited for the girl to continue. To explain what was troubling her. Humans, the older woman had cause to know, often relied heavily on sharing their burdens with others. It was understandable — few were able to adequately able to parse and delineate their emotions for proper suppression.

.

Uhura _was_ nervous. She swallowed and busied herself making unnecessarily exacting adjustments at the instrument panel. As Ko-mekh had pointed out, even the most minimal pilot-training would be sufficient to get a person from the private to terminal to Wehk Aitlunlar, provided one of the temple's shuttles was used. She wondered what names the temple's other spacecraft bore.

A prickly, yet vague, inchoate anger left her literally biting her tongue. She need not have bothered. Before a woman born to a race for which the smallest alterations in face and body language spoke volumes, she may as well have shouted.

"Speak, ko-kan," T'Pau urged her. "It is not your people's way to hold such fury inside, is it?"

The old Vulcan's word, most likely meant to soothe and encourage, only served to further irritate the young human. But "fury" was a strong word. Uhura wasn't even wholly certain exactly _what_ about T'Pau's explanation had bothered her; she nevertheless wouldn't have named what she was feeling "_fury_." (Though, if the woman continued to call her "child"…)

"Pardon me, T'sai," she said, careful to edit out whatever emotion she was experiencing from her tone. "The information you provided was new to me." _And your presentation of it — as well as your side comments about "my people" — sucked ass_, she left out. "I was surprised and unsure of how to respond," she hedged.

From the shrewd look her passenger leveled at her, Uhura deduced T'Pau had not been fooled.

"You disagree with my assessment of the practices of the Humanistic Temple?"

Since less than a week ago she had been thisclose to calling the priestesses of Wehk Aitlunlar V'tosh ka'tur, she knew it would be pointless to agree.

In slow motion, and as Uhura had answered instead of continuing to stare blankly at her questioner, T'Pau gave a single nod. If she had been human, the motion would have been accompanied by a smug smile.

"Ah," she said. "Then it is the idea that your sa-kugalsu's ko-mekh might have a negative influence on the success of your… training that has caused your disquiet."

Realizing that she had inadvertent _Listened_ to the ideas behind the matriarch's earlier statement, Uhura flushed. She hadn't intented to spy on the other woman's thoughts. Mama would be disappointed in her. Quickly, shielding herself, she clamped her teeth together behind her lips.

But, of course, T'Pau had hit the nail on the proverbial head. The notion that Ko-mekh — and by extension, all humans — was little more than a half-trained monkey when it came to mating was irksome to the point of outrage. Irritation turned to fury as Uhura wrapped her mind around the reason she'd been upset in the first place.

"Yes, T'Pau Tela'at ," she said. "Ko-mekh has been with Sa-mekh for more than three Terran decades. Surely her knowledge of what is means to be the _human_ bondmate of a Vulcan should not be dismissed?"

The smooth skin of the old woman's face barely moved as she raised an eyebrow. Instantly, Uhura was reminded of Spock and she had to fight an urge to relax in the matriarch's presence.

"Your reasoning is logical, ko-kan," T'Pau allowed, "but your application of it is faulty. She can share with you some of what it is to be bonded to a Vulcan, but she cannot help you understand what it will mean to become Spock's mate. That, you will have to learn for yourself. It is better that you are guided by a dispassionate — disinterested — party so that you may find your own way. Moreover, you have also failed to take under consideration the detrimental effect her esteem for you might have on her observation of your training."

Uhura colored — her cheeks turning a rose-brown hue that T'Pau could not miss — at the memory of Ko-mekh seeing her work with the sutor-lok.

She acknowledged that the other woman was correct in the first instance, but desperately wanted to protest the last. But, while her Betazoid ancestry was so far back as to be considered negligible, she had been trained on the world of those ancestors and their habit of abhorring all lies and prevarications was deeply instilled in her.

"Ah," the elder said, nodding, seemingly unaware of the inner struggle her companion was engaged in, "you _have_ considered what it will mean for her to continue watching you learn to please her son. Good."

Before Uhura could ask what she meant by that final pronouncement, Vulcan Central get her permission to take off and for the next several standard hours, her attention was claimed by piloting the Sudef-bosh.

.

.

Amanda swam up from the depths of unconsciousness, her limbs and heavy still heavy with the aftereffects of extreme.

_If I could bottle Pon farr_, she thought, a wicked smile dancing across her face, _I be the richest woman in the galaxy!_

_You would never consent to share _this_ with others_. Sarek punctuated the statement by thrusting his lok against her swollen ko-lok. A bliss so intense the room seemed to tilt around her burst from the tiny nubbin and streaked through her body like lightening in a summer sky.

_Never!_ she agreed. Twining her legs around his hips, she reached between them grasp his blazing-hot lok. _This is mine_.

.

.

Humiliation still burned her cheeks, no matter how hard she strived to attain some level of detachment. On one hand she was glad that Ko-mekh was not present to see her failure; on the other hand, she fervently wished the other human was at her side to give the kind of comfort Uhura doubted the Vulcan women could provide. The contrary feelings left her head swimming in confusion, as well as embarrassment, and to her further dismay, she felt a painful prick of tears gathering in her eyes.

A powerful desire to avoid extending the possibility of critique from the family matriarch had helped Uhura to make her next attempt with the sutor-lok her last. As Ko-mekh had promised, the priestesses declared her proficient and ready to move on to the next level of training.

Any confidence she'd gained by conquering the false lok faded when she saw the three-dimensional hologram of her sa-kugalsu for the first time.

Faced with an order to perform the same ministrations on a whole-bodied Spock simulacrum — which looked and smelled and sounded like her k'diwa without _Sounding _like her k'diwa — she couldn't even get started.

It didn't matter that the priestesses — and the holoSpock — all assured her that no one expected her to actually copulate with it; just the thought of _touching_ the hologram made her stomach churn.

"I cannot do this. That _thing_ is not him," she said for the third time, her eyes skimming along the tops of the walls, searching for some hint of how her teachers and guides were watching her. All she saw, however, was her bedroom in Uncle Tabansi's apartment. "I _will_ not do this," she amended.

.

They entered within seconds, just as she was beginning regret her rash defiance. T'Lin and T'Pau, trailed by T'Arah, then T'Peng and the handsy little acolyte.

"As is my right and my responsibility, I will show her what is at stake and what is required of her. While your methods have proven effective for Vulcan females, as well as for Sarek's mate, I doubt that this child can benefit from much more shame," T'Pau was telling T'Lin as the two elders stepped through the doors. "I would meld with the ko-kan."

"No!" Uhura cried out, leaping to her feet. Five faces, four of them Vulcan-smooth and imperious, one showing the faintest sign of understanding overlaid with a touch of disappointment, stared at her. Shooting an apologetic look at T'Arah, she turned to the head of Spock's clan and amended, "I meant to say, that will not necessary, T'Pau Tela'at."

"The child speaks true, T'Pau," intoned T'Lin. "She has already been instructed in that manner and is no more likely to benefit from another meld than she would from continuing in this effort."

T'Arah stepped forward as if she was about to intervene, but T'Pau spoke before she could.

"I have more experience dealing with humans than most of you," she said. "And I know this child's parents, and have observed the girl's development since her birth. Allow me to attempt another method."

Uhura sucked in a deep, but quiet breath, schooling her features as much to hide her shock at T'Pau's revelation — _She's been watching me since _birth? — as to suppress the likely futile wish that T'Lin would refuse her.

"Come with me, ko-kan," T'Pau ordered without even waiting for an answer. There was no mistaking that it was an order.

Uhura stole a nervous glance at T'Lin, willing the Elder of Wehk Aitlunlar to contest the command. But she only nodded slightly before turning to swiftly exit the holosuite.

Slowly, the young woman approached the matriarch of her sa-kugalsu's clan. The elder said no more, but left the room in a more leisurely fashion than T'Lin had done, moments before.

.

.

The smooth ochre-colored floor was warm, its heat even leaching through the thick soles of the half-boots the priestesses had provided. Uhura spun around full-circle where she stood. She estimated the surrounding clear-steel dome to be less than eight meters in diameter.

"Human myth is inconsistent." T'Pau didn't look at Uhura as she spoke. Her eyes remained trained on the bright sphere, dominating the night sky. Her hands stayed hidden in the joined cuffs of voluminous black sleeves.

"That is one of the reasons we call it 'myth,' Tela'at," Uhura replied.

Then the older woman's gaze _did_ light on her companion, but only briefly before returning to the sky. "Human myth is inconsistent," she repeated, "but for millennia it proved useful in explaining phenomena observers had neither the knowledge to comprehend nor the tools to adequately examine.

"And, at times, it has been used to provide a metaphor for concepts too esoteric to be widely appreciated." Drawing the cuffs apart, she raised a hand and gestured towards the radiant planet in the distance.

"Vulcan and T'Khut have no such myth, and yet the humans who composed the ancient tales of your world would likely have created a tale for them, had they known their secrets." She turned her back on the view, her carriage clearly expectant, though her expression was unreadable.

Only… Uhura had no idea what was expected of her. "Tela'at?" she murmured, setting forward. The urge to _Listen_ was strong, but she resisted.

T'Pau's eyes dropped to the heated floor. Her right foot traced a circle in the red dust, then her left made a slightly larger one.

"Did you know humans once called this planet 'Charis'?" she asked, looking up again once the images are complete.

"Yes, Tela'at." Uhura didn't bother to hide her confusion. She kept her fear that the old Vulcan might be losing her mind tucked away. If the situation became dangerous, she reflected, there was a good chance she could outrun T'Pau.

"Charis never turns her face from Vulcan." T'Pau spoke as if her words were heavy with meaning; Uhura worried that the madness was already escalating and took an involuntary step back.

But T'Pau had already turned again to watch the planet glowing in the sky above. "Are you familiar with the tales of Hephaestus?"

Chagrined at her train of thought, Uhura let out an embarrassed sigh as T'Pau's purpose became clear. "There are many myths, Tela'at," she said. "And most have several variations." She hesitated a moment before adding, "According to Homer, and others, Charis was once the wife of Hephaestus, whom the Romans called Vulcan."

T'Pau nodded without turning around again. "Correct, ko-kan. Most of the myth makers who noted Charis's existence at all said Hephaestus left her for Aphrodite's fairer face. And yet, one hundred seventy Terran years ago, documents older than the first recording of Homer's epics were discovered. Though clearly of Earth origin, they were found here, on T'Khut."

Unable to stop herself, Uhura gasped. "Eighteen years before first contact," she breathed. Intrigued, she found

"The scrolls told a different tale, T'Pau continued. "Hephaestus suffered a fever. Charis could not soothe her husband because she was held prisoner and was unable reach him. She could not soothe him. He turned to Aphrodite in his need. But when the fever broke, he tracked Charis's captor's down and released her, killing them in the process. And then he and his wife vowed to remain locked together, never out of the other's sight."

"'Never and always touching and touched,'" Uhura quoted.

"Yes," agreed T'Pau.

Uhura remained silent, taking in the story, musing over its implications and on the odd comfort it brought her.

"Your task is less difficult than you believe it to be, ko-gazh," T'Pau told her. "You will succeed because Spock needs you to succeed."

Moved to near to tears upon hearing herself referred to as a member of the Vulcan's clan, Uhura responded in kind.

"Thank you, Orfik-kosu."

* * *

**A/N:** I first read that humans called T'Khut by the alternate name Charis in Diana Duane's (non-canon) novel, _Spock's World_.

Since Greek and Roman myth (much like Star Trek!) are so often internally inconsistent, I've taken a few liberties in the story T'Pau tells Uhura. While most traditions name Aphrodite as the wife of Hephaestus (as they do for their Roman equivalents, Venus and Vulcan), he's been linked with many females and in _The Iliad_ Homer claimed Charis was his wife. Some traditions say that Hephaestus left Charis for Aphrodite, but I decided to make their romance more complicated.

The term"ko-gazh" is my invention. It is comprised of the feminine identifier "ko" and "gazh" which means "descendant."

**A/N addendum: **If you haven't 't read 1C13:11, you didn't read the moment when Sarek first met a 7-year-old Nyota Uhura, standing in a garden pond.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, any of its concepts or characters, and I don't profit from writing about them - except through your reviews!


	8. An Unmistakable Display of Affection

Sarek stood naked with his back to a tall, narrow window in his bedchamber, smiling softy as he watched his wife sleep. Once again, he and Amanda had safely avoided the onset of plak tow. For him, the worst of the danger was over. His mate's secondary affliction, while potentially disconcerting if not treated soon after the completion of his Time, was not life-threatening. Still, he would need to appeal to Wehk Aitlunlar to send relief as soon now that he was nearly free of the Pon farr.

Unhurried steps took him to the comm console, where he sent a text-only message to the priestesses who had assisted Amanda so many times. He did not inquire about Nyota's progress, but it was a testament to his lack of control that he a regarding his trust of and admiration for daughter-to-be at the end of his missive.

It always came down to this. Later, he knew, he would look back on these days with an embarrassment and shame that only the most assiduous meditation could ameliorate. At the moment, however, Sarek wished to hold on to this freedom to _feel_ without mortification. Already, he could sense the first vestiges of his logic reaffirming its place in his mind.

Sarek moved back to the window and looked out across his grounds. He had brought his wife from her lush green world and she had adapted to the harshness of his. It was a gift for which he would never be able to adequately express his gratitude. He would make the attempt, however, while he still possessed the ability to try.

Just as she had done each of the previous Times they had shared, Amanda was becoming more amorous and demanding, her sexual appetite increasing as he finally moved towards satiation. The phenomenon was curious; this absurd dichotomy of individual experiences did not occur with Vulcan females.

Every seven years, he felt an urge to explore its significance, but by the time his thoughts were ordered enough to carry out such an investigation, he could no longer bear to reflect on their actions. Additionally, as he and his mate were the only human/Vulcan couple he was aware of, his sample size would be too small for a legitimate study. He wondered idly if Spock and his mate would one day encounter a similar situation.

But then Amanda approached him from behind and began sliding her hands up and down his chest. All thoughts about the children and what the future might bring slid away beneath her touch.

.

Amanda melted into her husband's warm flesh. This was her favorite part of the Time. She didn't mind the almost insatiable need that threatened to consume her. Not when Sarek was there to fill her, mind and body, again and again.

He purred pleasantly and she loosened her grip so that he could turn in her arms.

"Let's go back to bed, handsome."

He chuckled at the order delivered as a request and lifted her into his arms. "As you wish, adun'a."

She set to work as soon as he sank down onto the soft grey sheets and settled her onto his lap. Twisting around, she placed a knee on either side of him and gave his shoulders a hard shove. He lay back, the indulgent smile on his lips managing to underscore the heat in his eyes.

This really was the best part of the Time, she mused. Seeing Sarek so free of his usual constraints, but not driven by the overwhelming need that plagued the first days of the Pon farr.

Now, when he was like — so open and willing — she could set the pace, focusing on her own growing desire.

Sarek reached up, stroked her cheek, and desire crashed over her like a tsunami, obliterating rational thought.

Already slick and pulsating, Amanda sank down onto his lok. Took all of him in one mindless motion.

.

.

With a confidence that would have been impossible to imagine just days before, Uhura guided the Sudef-bosh through Vulcan's atmosphere to the private terminal. Her hands didn't shake and breath didn't catch as she brought the shuttle in for a gentle landing. and she didn't notice the nod of approval T'Pau allowed as the human girl quickly went through the shut-down procedures.

As the gentle hum of the Sudef-bosh's engines faded away, she was surprised to realize she felt a pang of… something. Not longing, exactly. Her time at Wehk Aitlunlar had been difficult, and more often than not, humiliating. But she had learned a skill that might one day mean the difference between Spock's demise and his survival. She couldn't regret her time there.

And, if she was honest with herself, she also felt connected to some of the temple's priestesses. Meeting T'Arah and T'Peng, she thought with a smile, had been a lot like adding two more aunties to the Uhura bint Wakufunzi family. She doubted T'Lin would ever feel like family, but the old woman was committed to her cause and Uhura's respect for her was deeply embedded.

T'Pau's quiet remark broke into her thoughts. "We have been cleared to debark, ko-gazh."

With a fond smile, Uhura turned to the S'chn T'gai matriarch.

_Who'd have guessed she's really an old softie?_

_Except, she isn't_, Uhura conceded as she opened the shuttle door and waved the Vulcan elder through.

T'Pau could be just as intimidating as Uhura had always feared. But then she had to be. T'Pau was the strength of S'chn T'gai. All women of the clan were expected to be strong, but for the matriarch, that quality was imperative.

A pair of hover cars awaited the women outside the private terminal building. Uhura knew better than to expect an emotional farewell from the Vulcan. She was bound for her own home, while the human would return to Starfleet Academy. And to Spock.

"Take this, ko-gazh." T'Pau held out a palm-sized cube towards her. "Amanda will have need of it."

Uhura tried to hide her surprise, but failed utterly.

"Take it," T'Pau said again. "Enough days have passed since she was called away that your presence should not cause a disturbance, provided you make your time there is brief. Amanda will appreciate not having to wait for the humanistic priestesses to send this to her."

Nodding, although she still didn't understand, Uhura accepted the wooden box and opening studied its intricate carving.

"What is it?" Vulcans did not consider curiosity offensive; if it was none of her business, T'Pau would tell her so.

The old woman reached over and lifted the lid, handing it to Uhura. Inside, the square space had been divided into two triangles, each covered with a silvery stopper. T'Pau lifted one to reveal a smooth, pale yellow substance. The other hid a measure deeply fragrant compressed leaves.

"They are a soothing balm and tea T'Lin developed specifically for Sarek's mate," she explained as she resealed the second compartment. "Amanda should have taken this with her when she returned to Vulcan, but it seems to have been left behind in her haste."

Uhura didn't sense any censure in the matriarch's observation, so she secured the wooden lid over the metal stoppers without responding.

"One day, you might have need of it, as well," T'Pau added, not looking at her. "The priestesses should have explained its use to you… but perhaps your experience will be different from Amanda's."

Uhura's curiosity tripled at the cryptic sentence, prompting her to ask, "Are you certain this is… acceptable? For me to deliver these to Ko-mekh?" She knew how the question sounded to Vulcan ears. They did not lie, and did not expect to have their pronouncements doubted. Knowing that wasn't enough to make her regret asking.

As if sensing her uncertainty, T'Pau spoke again. "You will be in no danger, ko-gazh. I sent word of your arrival to Sarek's house. It is better that you make this delivery. My presence would only cause Amanda distress." Then she raised her hand in the ta'al, saying, "Peace and long life, Nyota Uhura."

Aware that any further attempts at engaging the woman in conversation would be ignored, Uhura lifted her own hand and mirrored the gesture. "Live long and prosper, T'Pau Tela'at."

She watched the matriarch get settled into the back of one of the waiting hover cars before climbing into her own. After telling her to secure herself in the safety harness, the driver fell silent. Uhura stared out the window as they floated through the airways of Shi'Kahr.

.

.

Although he was pleased that the priestesses had anticipated his mate's need, Sarek was reluctant to leave Amanda alone in her current state. Silently, illogically, he urged their future ko-fu to arrive quickly.

By virtual of keeping watch at a window that faced the front of his home, he was able to see the hover car turning onto his property and was downstairs, waiting, before Nyota could ring the door chimes and disturb Amanda.

His intention had been to take her delivery, thank her and express his desire that she have a safe journey back to Earth. One look at her apprehensive face reawakened a paternal instinct, however. Sarek was surprised to hear himself inviting the girl into his home to rest. Her ship to Earth, he knew, was not scheduled to depart for another twenty hours.

"Are you _sure_, Sa-mekh?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. "I can stay at one of the terminal hostels until tomorrow."

It took all of Sarek's strength not to smile in front of the driver as he said, "Of course, ko-fu. Amanda and I are honored by your presence."

He helped her retrieve her meager luggage (_So much less than what his adun'a would have packed for such a trip!_) and instructed the driver to return in the morning before sending him on his way.

In spite of the persistent urge to protect Nyota and make her comfortable, Sarek remained clear-headed enough remember that Amanda was his first priority.

"Come, ko-fu," he said, leaving her bag in the entryway. "I will teach you how to prepare the mol-kom'masu."

"The serenity water?"

Smiling again at her confusion, Sarek indicated the wood cube she carried and led the way to the kitchen.

"The priestesses of Wehk Aitlunlar developed this blend of calming herbs for Amanda," he explained as he set a filled kettle on the cooking range. "It is… greatly appreciated."

Already, he could feel his habitual restraint reasserting itself, preventing him from going into further detail. Fortunately, his son's ko-kugalsu was Talented enough divine his meaning. He could feel Nyota Listening and opted not to shield himself from her psychogenic examination.

"I… see," she said after a momentary silence. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Amanda appeared in the doorway before Sarek could answer.

"Ennie!" she cried, rushing across the room to envelop the girl in a tight hold. "Oh, sweetheart, you're here and you're making my mol-kom'masu! Sarek, darling, isn't our girl a sweetheart."

Sarek caught Nyota's look of alarm, even as she returned his wife's embrace. Still, he grinned at the pair and said, "Indeed, adun'a. We are most fortunate in Spock's choice."

Amanda grinned back and Sarek felt compelled to join them. "We are most fortunate," he repeated, wrapping his arms around his wife and daughter.

.

Still reeling from the barrage of bizarre questions an excited Ko-mekh had had thrown at her Uhura sat at the kitchen tables with her hosts. ("Did you have sex with the holoSpock?" had been been met with an emphatic "No!"; a chiding "You are embarrassing her, adun'a. Enough!"; and a broad smile that erased any sense of Sarek's censure.)

_Unless he asks directly,_ Uhura decided, _I will _never _tell Spock what happened here._

She watched Sa-mekh urge Ko-mekh to take another sip of the mol-kom'masu. Ko-mekh only giggled and pressed a kiss into his neck. Sa-mekh responded by titling Ko-mekh's chin up and capturing her lips with his.

_There are some things a daughter-in-law doesn't need to see_, Uhura told herself. She cleared her throat and, when Sa-mekh finally looked up again, nodded towards the soothing tea.

He laughed. S'chn T'gai Sarek, son of Skon _laughed_!

Uhura wanted to shudder at the sound, but instead found herself smiling back at him.

"Come, adun'a," Sarek said, picking up the teacup. "We are making ko-fu uncomfortable."

Amanda managed to sneak in another kiss, but dutifully finished the fragrant brew in one long gulp.

She was smiling again when she met Uhura's eyes. "One day you'll know what this is like," she predicted. "I can't wait to see if you're so quick to take your medicine like a good girl!"

Uhura couldn't help herself. She joined Ko-mekh and Sa-mekh in laughter this time.

A warm sense of belonging suddenly suffused her senses. _This could be home_, she realized. _They're as bad as Mama and Baba_.

She saw that Sa-mekh was watching her. Sarek was Vulcan, but he _understood_, she realized.

He reached and brushed the backs of his fingers against her forehead.

"Tomorrow, you will go home to my son, ko-fu," he murmured. "Spock has need of you whether or not the knowledge you have gained becomes necessary. It pleases me to know he has you. And that you have him."

* * *

San Francisco's damp cold sought out any gaps in Uhura's heavy clothing, stinging exposed flesh that was not yet re-acclimated winter winds. She shivered, already missing the sweltering touch of Vulcan's arid breezes. Deliberately discounting her hours spent shivering in the holosuite, she decided even the inescapable heat of T'Khut's volcanoes was preferable to this.

"You should have gone to Garissa first," she chided herself as she trudged through the morning mist.

Not that home in March felt all that different from Vulcan. The detour really wouldn't have eased the transition very much. Besides, her favorite memories of home and homecomings all included Spock…

By the time she reached the safety of the building, she was too deep in memories of frolicking around the Uhura compound and of returning from trips throughout the galaxy to notice that the air still stung her cheeks and snaked up the wide sleeves of her Starfleet overcoat. This time Spock was _here_, and she was coming home to _him_.

.

.

He opened the message while his morning was warming on the cook unit.

_Dearest Spock,_

_The Corps was _most_ pleased with the result of our visit and impressed by your conduct during that time. Don't be surprised if they start hinting that you would be welcome to join their ranks. I'm pretty certain that Nyota Ndogo will have something to say about that, should it come to pass!_

_Mwana, I would be a very poor mother if I did not tell you how much I enjoyed spending time with just you. Now, that is not to say that I didn't have fun when Benjamin and I visited you an Ennie a couple of weeks ago. I had wonderful time! But sometimes a mother needs to focus on her each of her children, one at a time. I hope you don't mind that I used to the meetings on Thebia as an excuse to do so with you, son of my heart. I could not resist such an opportunity!_

_I am so proud of you, Spock. And I cannot think of anyone Benjamin and I would rather have by Nyota's side for the rest of her life. Thank you, thank you, thank you for easing the mind and heart of an old woman._

_Mama_

Suppressing the smile that M'Umbha Uhura bint Wakufunzi's (no doubt intentionally) overly-sentimental and hyperbolic missive brought to his face would have taken little effort. Spock didn't even try. He had known the woman all his life, after all, and marrying her daughter meant he would likely need to grow accustomed to her ploys. It was a mother's prerogative, his own ko-mekh had told him more than once, to do what she must to ascertain the state of her children's well-being.

He closed the message program and pushed the PADD he reserved exclusively for personal use to the side, exchanging it for his Starfleet-issued device. Soon after, he was engrossed in the lists of crew candidates Captain Pike had forwarded to him. Thirty-nine minutes into the tedious task, Spock was still eating his breakfast and so focused on the selection process, he nearly failed to hear his door sliding open.

"We need to start having sex."

Dropping her bag near the door, Nyota stalked thorough his sitting room to the dining alcove. She sat opposite him, her elbows propped on the table, her cradled in her palms. "There's no way _my_ first time is going to coincide with _your_ first Time."

Forcing down a wave of apprehension (_What, exactly, had occurred during her visit with Ko-mekh_?), Spock met her gaze as calmly as he was able before returning his attention to his plomeek. "I take it your visit with Mother was productive?" The bowl of soup had no answer, but Nyota did.

"You bet your pointy ears it was!" she exclaimed. "You've been holding out on me, Spocky."

He looked up again. Raised an inquiring brow.

"It's not the same for humans, k'diwa." She grinned, adding, "You don't _really_ want me to go into detail, do you? I mean, I said 'humans,' but the only empirical data I have came from _one_ human in particular."

Spock felt his nostrils flare ever so slightly as the implications of her statement filtered through his discomfort, only to push him into full-blown embarrassment. "Details are unnecessary," he assured her.

"Okay, no details," she promised, smiling in what he supposed was meant to be a reassuring manner. It was not. However, when she went on to say, "Let's just say, what a Vulcan male considers a humiliating display of emotionalism and loss of control can be an incredibly gratifying experience for a human female," his discomfort eased immediately.

Only to be replaced by need so compelling, he dropped his spoon and reached for one of her hands. Sitting back, she folded her arms across her chest, temporarily out of his reach.

"But, uh, it's also an extremely _exciting_ experience," she said, lacing her voice with innuendo.

_Minx!_ he thought. The human colloquialism described her teasing best. He did not allow himself to smile. _Later_, he promised himself.

"You know what can happen when I get excited, k'diwa," she continued. Her was low, telegraphing her desire for him almost as clearly as if he were touching her. The seductive smile curving her lips told him she knew exactly how she was affecting him.

Spock moved more quickly than he thought she could react, pulling her into his arms, his lap, allowing her to_ feel _her success.

"It would seem, beloved," he said, allowing his lips to lightly touch hers, "that you are in need of practice before such a Time arises."

.

Spock was disinclined to move when, three hours eight minutes later, a tone from his personal PADD alerted him to the receipt of an incoming message. As he kept very few secrets from his ko-kugalsu — none of which were of an unofficial nature — and since he was somewhat proud of her insatiable curiously, he didn't object when Nyota offered to retrieve it for him. On the condition that she return to bed with the device, of course.

He was not concerned when she took longer than the ten point three seconds he'd estimated she would need to retrieve the PADD and come back to him. Insatiable curiosity sometimes led to distractions, which was often an integral part of human genius.

But when he heard her cry of "What the _fuck_?" immediately followed by the sound of bare feet rapidly progressing across his floorboards, he sat up, wondering about the source of her agitation.

Nyota rushed through the doorway and did not pause before flinging herself onto the bed, knees first. She barely missed re-injuring him.

"What is _this_, Spock?" she demanded, forcibly thrusting the PADD to within a centimeter of his face.

Spock looked at the two-dimensional image of him and Dr. M'Umbha in traditional garb at the Nesu-bit's ball in Luxor. He pushed the PADD back and drew her nude form close so that she could view the screen with him.

"That," he said, tapping the PADD to zoom in on the kilt-like garment wrapped around his waist, "is a shendyt."

* * *

**A/N:** That's all folks! Thanks for riding along. And thanks to TalesFromTheSpockSide for coming up with this deliciously Barbara Cartland-esque chapter title.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of 'em!


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